EPISODE 8: Keep Your Friends Close

Bruce awoke the next morning to the shrill ring of the telephone next to his bed. He slowly stirred out of his slumber and grabbed the ivory white phone.

"Hello?" He asked groggily.

"Bruce, it seems Harvey Dent has stopped by for a visit, what should I tell him?" Alfred asked. Bruce's face split into a smile.

"Tell him I'll be down in a few minutes". Bruce had hardly finished speaking when he slammed the phone down onto the dialer.

No more than four minutes had passed when Bruce was in the foyer, ready to greet Harvey. Bruce was clad in a fine black sweater and grey dress pants. Harvey's pants could have been a carbon copy of the pair his friend was wearing and much like Bruce, they were sitting well above his waist. Harvey opted for a white dress shirt that fit his athletic body well.

"Morning, Bruce," Harvey said with a smile. "I thought I might stop by and see you since we haven't spoken since that gala in Downtown."

"Right, of course. Things have been very busy as of late." Bruce said.

"You're telling me! I was thinking we could head down to the foundation today and maybe do some volunteering at the soup kitchen. How's that sound?" Harvey asked. Bruce thought to himself. Harvey was such a kind man. He was always willing and able to help people out, even when he was one of the busiest men in Gotham. Bruce smiled.

"That sounds great, Harvey. We can take one of my cars downtown." Bruce said as the two men walked towards a garage filled with the finest cars of the day. Bruce opened the door to reveal a spotless garage floor where cars of all shapes and sizes were on display. Burning crimson paint jobs to cool cobalt blue stripes and shining chrome tires all caught the amazed eyes of Harvey Dent.

"How do you pick which one to drive?" Harvey asked with a chuckle. Bruce returned the laugh and said "Depends on the mood for the day, I guess. Which one would you want to take?" Harvey pointed to a yellow Italian sports car near the garage door.

"How's about that one?" He asked. Bruce nodded and the two walked towards the car. Bruce entered the driver's side and Harvey slipped into the passenger seat. The engine roared and the two men were off to the Wayne Foundation.

"Harvey, you know that Penguin fellow you were telling me about?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah. What about him?" Harvey asked.

"I have some inside information from one of my old employees that has friends who work with the Penguin. He says they're planning to a deal by the old theater in North Gotham at 3pm on the 26th. You might want to tell your friend Gordon about it." Bruce said.

"Huh. I trust you, Bruce. I'll let him know. The information is a little broad, but they can certainly start looking in the right direction. Thanks, Bruce." Harvey said.

"Don't mention it. I just try and do what I can." Bruce replied.

'Which is why we're going to the soup kitchen!" Harvey excitingly interjected. The two men laughed as they took the winding country roads towards downtown.

After about twenty minutes, the men arrived at the Wayne Foundation. It was on the first couple of floors of the Wayne Industries building that reached high into the Gotham skyline. The brick exterior of the building showed that the Wayne's prominence in Gotham was well established. The dynasty of the Wayne's family business dated back to Bruce's grandparents. Every time Bruce returned to the Wayne Industries building in downtown, he was reminded of his nearly regal lineage. What started as a small utilities company grew into a massive operation that included automobile manufacturing, and energy production. This building here was just the administrative building and headquarters of Wayne Industries as well as the operations center of the Wayne Foundation, which was Bruce's addition to the Wayne legacy. Bruce looked up at the large white "W" that was pasted on the top of the tower. His gaze came back down to the ground floor as Harvey was already moving towards the front door. Bruce moved quickly to catch him.

The two made their way to the soup kitchen, which drew increasingly larger crowds as the economic depression continued to put more and more people in Gotham out of work. Ollie Chambers, a skinny man of about forty years of age was the manager of the soup kitchen and a longtime employee of Wayne Industries.

"Hey, Ollie!" Bruce said with a friendly wave.

"Bruce. Long time no see! I bet you've been busy upstairs, haven't ya?" Ollie said with the smile that Bruce's father used to talk about at dinner. Thomas Wayne had said that if everyone smiled like Ollie Chambers, we would never fight another war again. He learned from his father to keep good men like Ollie around. His father always told him that a good friend will push you to be better and would be there for you whenever you fell short. Bruce snapped back to reality.

"Oh yes. We've been doing our best to keep as many people on payroll as we can right now." Bruce said confidently.

"You might think about bringing a couple of more in here. Things are really getting busy." Ollie said.

"That's why we're here!" Harvey said with a smile. Ollie shot him a look of surprise.

"You two are coming in to work today? The President of Wayne Industries and the DA of Gotham City are working in MY soup kitchen today? What a day!" Ollie paused. "Well come on then, let's get you two some aprons. We need some people to serve up the soup and give it to the people in line. I hope that's alright with you." Ollie said. The two men laughed.

"Fine by us." Harvey said. "Whatever we can do to help."

After two hours of serving up soup to the struggling people of Gotham, Bruce and Harvey were tired. Their right arms were sore from lifting and pouring soup into white bowls for what felt like an eternity. Bruce and Harvey shot each other a look of knowing, as each immediately understood the other's pain. Nonetheless, the two persisted in their work and continued to fill the chilled porcelain bowls with hot, fresh soup. Soon a small boy came up to the two in line. He had brought an extra bowl. It was white like the others at the kitchen, but had seen some wear over the years. The blue flowers painted on the side were fading in some places and had disappeared altogether in others. Harvey looked confused as the boy had come in without any parents, but had an extra bowl.

"Hey, young man. How are you today?" Harvey asked with a smile. The boy looked around nervously.

"I'm…fine." He quickly replied.

"Good. Do you want me to fill up that extra bowl for you?" Harvey asked. Bruce was side tracked as another person stepped in front of him and had asked for some soup. Bruce was still able to follow the conversation that Harvey was having with the boy despite his other duties.

"It's not for me….it's for my dad." The boy said, staring at the ground.

"Your dad?" Harvey replied. "Is he okay?" A wave of concern spread across Harvey's face.

"His arm is broken and he's sick inside. He told me the Batman got him. He said that his chest hurts too. He can't get out of bed, so he sent me to get some soup." The boy said, his eyes not moving from the ground.

"Where is your mother?" Harvey asked.

"Dad said she's run away. He said that she moved back with her parents after dad lost his job at the shoe factory." The boy said.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Tell you what, let me walk you back home so we can bring this soup to him together. How's that sound?" Harvey said with an encouraging tone. The boy nodded.

"Bruce, can you handle this?" Harvey said, interrupting Bruce's rhythm. Bruce gave an affirming nod and Harvey went to unwrap his apron and to talk to Ollie. Bruce continued to serve up soup as he saw the silhouettes of Harvey and the boy vanish into the streets of Gotham.

Despite his calm appearance, Bruce was shaken to his core by what he had just heard. He was grateful that he could distract himself from his thoughts by mindlessly pouring soup out into the bowls.

"He's just like me." Bruce said under his breath. "I can't believe it."

Bruce continued to serve up soup for the rest of the afternoon. Even after Harvey came back at eight o' clock, Bruce was still there, moving his right arm up and down, up and down, up and down. His face was blank, he was in a trance of his own guilt.

"Bruce." Harvey said, waving at him. He was shaken out of his stupor.

"Hey, Harvey." He replied.

"I thought I was going to have to call a cab to get home, but then I saw you were still here. Why don't we take off, I think you've filled enough bowls today." Harvey said, trying to comfort his friend who was clearly shaken by something.

The two got in the car and began driving towards Wayne Manor.

"Why were you out so long?" Bruce asked.

"I was meaning to tell you about that. Turns out the boy's father was bleeding internally from the wounds that Batman gave him. We had to run him up to the hospital. It was a good thing I came, because I don't know if he would've made it if I hadn't shown up." A chill shot down Bruce's spine. He did this. He was responsible. Bruce sat in silence for a moment.

"Are you okay?" Harvey asked.

"Uhm…yes. I'm fine. It's hard for me sometimes when I see kids like that." Bruce stammered. Harvey nodded. He knew Bruce very well. And he knew that anything that reminded him of the night his parents were murdered sent him spiraling.

"I get it, believe me, I get it. I understand exactly where you're coming from. We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to." Harvey said reassuringly. The two drove in silence for the remaining minutes until they reached Wayne Manor. They parked the car in the loaded hangar of a garage and exited the yellow vehicle and then the building.

"Harvey, that was nice. It's nice to get out and help out first hand at the foundation." Bruce said with a smile.

"Agreed! You know, you should start spending some more time downstairs anyway. People need hope more now than ever. But it was great seeing you, Bruce. Try not to let the boy rattle you too much. His father is going to be okay." Harvey's reassuring words did little to comfort Bruce.

"Thanks, Harvey. Next time I'll be one who shows up to your house in the morning!" Bruce said jokingly. Harvey got in his car and Bruce strode back to his house. The guilt was eating away at him. It was slowly devouring him from the inside. He thought of the night he came back to Wayne Manor without his parents. How empty and cold the warm house he grew up in felt. It felt that way again tonight. If Harvey had not gone with that boy, Bruce would have created someone else like him. Except that boy didn't have Bruce's family lineage. He didn't have Alfred. He would've been left all alone.

Bruce entered the large empty house and greeted Alfred. He recapped the day's events and went off to bed.